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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27514708">Sherlock Holmes: The Black Rose</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexirose/pseuds/Alexirose'>Alexirose</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Enola Holmes (2020), Sherlock Holmes (Downey films), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adventure, Extreme sarcasm, F/M, Fluffy, Living Irene, Mystery, New love</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-08 04:34:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,725</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27514708</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexirose/pseuds/Alexirose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Detective Sherlock Holmes and Doctor John Watson find themselves back in Ferndell Hall. </p><p>Enola has now become Sherlock's pupil.</p><p>Mycroft is hiding dark secrets. </p><p>A Black Rose haunts Sherlock and Enola's dreams... Will they find the answers before it's too late? Lives are on the LINE.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Enola Holmes/Viscount "Tewky" Tewksbury, Irene Adler/Sherlock Holmes, Mary Morstan/John Watson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Scotland Yard</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>FIRST chapter of Sherlock Holmes: The Black Rose</p><p>Hope you enjoy my first Sherlock Holmes fanfic!<br/>Note: This is a cross between 2020's Enola Holmes, the original Sherlock Holmes books, and the RDJ movies. All with my own spin! </p><p>Happy reading! &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter One: Scotland Yard</p><p> </p><p>    Tap tap tap.<br/>
Click, BANG</p><p>“SHERLOCK. Don’t you have somewhere to be?!” A voice shouted from behind a rusty hinged door. </p><p>“Do I?” Was the presumptuous reply. “I might or might not.”<br/>
“God above. It’s been a WEEK since you’ve gotten out,” Retorted the voice behind the door.<br/>
“I’ve kept myself busy, dear Watson.” Noted Sherlock, Watson sighed.<br/>
“We must head out for Ferndell, Sherlock,” Watson said, bitterness on his tongue. “Your sister and brother await.”</p><p>A pad of footsteps gradually sounds closer to the door. A few clicks and latches later, the door screeches open. “Good.” The doctor grumbles before wheeling about on his heel and down the stairs. He wore some plain trousers and a fine grey sack suit with a newly pressed tie. In his hand he held a worn-down cane, and on his head sat a well-crafted bowler hat. His eyes a fair brown and hair a chocolate color. He’s muscularly built and has a strong jaw and neck. Handsome for sure, he wears a dark mustache and a regal nose. To note, he is slightly smaller than his companion, Sherlock Holmes. </p><p>A tall gentleman of good stature exits the room, wearing a fine dark grey vest with matching trousers. Over his vest, the man wore a simple suit - then a long, trailing dark coat. The gentleman was extremely handsome, with a strong face and deep grey eyes. His dark brown hair was set in natural curls- some falling over his eyes. He traveled down the stairs, his coat fluttering behind him. </p><p>The detective spoke loosely to his companion, “John, you have the carriage about?”<br/>
“Of course, since you had the audacity to never even send a telegram beforehand - I had to pull some strings for us,” Watson mumbled, walking out of the house and into the loud and grey city of London. The doctor turned about and waved to Mrs. Hudson. “Please take care of Gladstone, will you?” Mrs. Hudson nodded, “Be safe, Dr. Watson.”</p><p>“No care for me, Mrs. Hudson?” Sherlock asked, a bit nonchalant. The wrinkled landlady scowled.<br/>
“Keep your pompous attitude at a minimum, Mr. Holmes. You’re already in enough trouble as it is.” Sherlock scoffs, before waving down a paperboy off of the grimy sidewalk.</p><p>“Yes sir, Mr. Holmes?”<br/>
“Paper, as you do.” He said to the boy, tossing him a few pennies. The boy grinned, threw him the daily paper, and rushed back to his station.<br/>
“NEW REFORMS, PARLIAMENT'S NEW FOREIGN ADVERSARIES!” The paperboy yelled, catching the eyes of passerbyers. Sherlock flipped open the papers, and read its contents. He raised an eyebrow before glancing at Watson.<br/>
“What?” The doctor narrowed his eyes.<br/>
“Lestrade is being derailed from Scotland Yard…” He said a bit stricken. </p><p>Watson’s eyes grew wide, “How could that be? He is a fine inspector, and had a steady reputation in the force - besides his resignation toward you.”<br/>
“Read,” Sherlock spoke dryly.<br/>
“Sher- hm. The Commissioner has refuted Inspector G. Lestrade’s claims of aid toward the Crown as for the unlawful abiding cases of Detective Sherlock Holmes.” The doctor paused, “This makes no sense! You’ve been working with Lestrade for years, and they never passed another look on it.” </p><p>    Sherlock shook his head dismissively, “They don’t care about who they discharge. Even if he has solved the coldest of cases, the value of Lestrade is too tainted by my work.” The detective sighed before noticing the tired and worn carriage that stood before them. They stepped up and were off.<br/>
“Shouldn’t you send a telegram to Lestrade?” Watson asked, slightly out of the loop.<br/>
“At the moment, no. I’ll write to him later on at Ferndell.” Sherlock looked out onto the monotone and sorrow-filled buildings that lined the street of London. The sign of 221b Baker Street faded from view as the road filled more and more with carriages and automobiles. </p><p>    “How long has it been since you’ve seen Enola?” Watson asked, watching the world pass by as they made their way about the River Thames and into the farther reaches of London.<br/>
“Since the Marquess case, she had found herself a part of. I am to be her ward, once we get to the estate. But - Mycroft must pass on the responsibility officially.”<br/>
“She’ll be your pupil?”<br/>
“Of a sense. She’s a bright girl, intelligent and clever. But she can be refined beyond what my mother taught her.”<br/>
“You’ve never spoken much of your mother,” Watson says carefully.<br/>
“Eudoria is an enigma. That is almost everything about her. She loves ciphers and taught Enola everything she knows. Now I will continue her training.” </p><p>    “Will she be there?” The doctor inquired, restless in his seat.<br/>
Sherlock glanced to his companion for a moment, “Undoubtedly not. If she is, I’d be quite alarmed.”<br/>
“Seems a bit strange. Has she any reason to be gone.” Sherlock hesitated, looking out into the lush countryside.<br/>
“I’m not sure.” He says quickly, a bit too quickly.<br/>
They dismount the carriage and finally board a train, on the outskirts of London. Eventually, they find themselves at the train station, not far from Ferndell.<br/>
Watson walks out onto the outer platform and waits for Sherlock. “Do you think Mycroft will willingly renounce Enola as his ward?” He asks, slightly concerned for the outcome of the day. </p><p>    “Positively. He has told me himself that he is tired of her wildness and disability to define herself as a lady.”<br/>
“And that’s good?”<br/>
“Yes and no. But she is headstrong, so there is little anyone can do on that front.” After a short ride, they find themselves at the gateway of the Ferndell Hall. Watson takes his cane and steps of the carriage into the gravel pathway. Sherlock looks up at the Hall with a reflective expression before stepping off behind Watson.</p><p>The two traverse the gardens and into the courtyard - where a moss-filled fountain dribbled little streams of water from its spouts. They looked up at the majestic old Hall. Overgrown with ivy and plants of all sorts. The grand doors seemed ancient; yet held an air of grandness beyond its years. </p><p>“Ferndell has found itself a bit consumed,” Watson remarks, taking in the sights.<br/>
“Only a little,” Sherlock remarks, gradually opening up the doors. They shifted and roared, and from the inside, a rustle could be heard. They entered the dusty and poorly-kept Hall - both on high alert. </p><p>“Not too friendly from the looks of it.”<br/>
Sherlock shrugged, “Mycroft has only recently bitten into his responsibilities as the Lord of this Hall. Before, Eurdoria didn’t mind cleanliness - and from Enola’s perspective, neither would she.”</p><p>Watson chuckles, “Now I know where you get it from.” The doctor gazes around, in all, the place was splendid - besides its extreme disorganization and clutter. A few statues lay shattered upon polished wooden floors - paintings fallen off of the walls. The walls themselves full of divots. Watson narrows his eyes at the divots, one hurdled right through a painting of Mycroft Holmes.</p><p>“Aggressive tennis,” Sherlock explains without a hint of surprise. The detective turns, the crackle of fire echoing through a hallway and into a singular room off of it. They walk over and into the room. There, near a grand fireplace on a leather couch sits a lanky well-dressed man in cream. His eyes are the same color as Sherlock’s and his face is quite shallow and long. He sports a fine chin and cheeks. Groomed brown hair rests on his head, and a full mustache frames his face. The gentleman keeps a brooding expression, even as the two enter.</p><p>“Ah. Mycroft. It seems you’ve kept time.” Sherlock notes to the man.<br/>
His older brother looks up, “And it seems you have lost it.” His tone was as shallow as his face.<br/>
Sherlock frowns, “Where is Enola?” </p><p>“She’ll be here soon. Matters to attend. In any case, Sherlock, she didn’t want to be here. Especially as we bicker about the certain arrangements of managing a ward.” Mycroft says passive-aggressively. He shifts slightly before gazing into the blazing fire. Upon the mantle sat a dusty old picture of the brothers far younger and next to Eurdoria and baby Enola. </p><p>“Ah. Dr. Watson, nice seeing you again.” Watson nods in deft acknowledgment before sitting down upon a singular leather chair.<br/>
“Lestrade,” Mycroft said abruptly, Sherlock sighed.</p><p>“I heard the news. How unfortunate…” The spite in his voice hinted otherwise.<br/>
“Truly, indeed.”<br/>
“What is to become of him now? Since I doubt Scotland Yard would take back the Inspector after all the misdemeanors on your behalf.” Mycroft noted smoothly, a faint smile on his lips.</p><p>“You assume far beyond ease of reasoning, older brother.”<br/>
“You put too much faith in Scotland Yard, little brother.”<br/>
Sherlock glowered, “My faith only lies in the plausible reasoning and truth of my mind.” He then added, “Not in any other medium that may undefine the fact of proper analysis.” </p><p>Mycroft blinked, before letting out an exasperated sigh. “Yet your mind is like a maze full of all sorts of dead ends.” Sherlock seated himself in a lonely chair near the fire. A thunder of running feet collapse onto the floor as a young woman charges in; she stops, looks around, eyes wide toward Watson. She heaves. </p><p>Pant pant pant pant<br/>
“Sherlock.” She exclaims between breaths. </p><p>“Enola,” Sherlock says in a deep purr. </p><p>Enola glances at Watson, then back to her brother. She wears a practical dress, dirty and patched. Her long hair trails down her back, frizzled and unkempt. A deep chestnut. Her eyes are a bright hazel, with wit tinged inside. Shorter than her brothers, she still maintains a fit stature against Mycroft’s less-toned regard. Besides her brothers, they could easily be distinguished, and at the same time noticed as siblings. Especially her and Sherlock. </p><p>    “When did you get here, Sherlock?” She asks, eyes darting from her brothers and Watson. “Who is he?” Enola points to the doctor.<br/>
A subtle smile traces the edges of Sherlock’s mouth. He always enjoyed Enola’s company - despite his lonesome entitlement.<br/>
“We got here a few minutes ago, from the station.” He explains deeply, “This is Doctor John Watson. My companion for cases.”</p><p>    Enola’s eyes widened in astonishment, “This is him? The great partner of Detective Sherlock Holmes? Amazing…” She says in awe - before plopping on the other side of the couch, far enough away from Mycroft. Watson grins, </p><p>    “A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Holmes.” He says, nodding his head.<br/>
“Oh! No no. The pleasure is mine.” Enola shakes her head, then turns to her brother.<br/>
“I heard the news. About Lestrade. What is he to do now?”<br/>
“The best thing for him is to keep an eye and ear out,” Sherlock says, a bit distantly. Mycroft makes a sputtering sound before lowering his head. Enola glares starkly at her brother.<br/>
“You.” She growls. Mycroft looks up, startled. “You had something to do with this.”<br/>
“How dare you assume such a lowly act upon me?!”<br/>
“Because you’re a lowly person, Mycroft.” Her eyes grow cold.<br/>
“Enola... “ Sherlock warns.<br/>
“WHAT? You would defend MYCROFT of all people against doing something like this?!”<br/>
“You’re doing it again. Dangling your legs to attract the sharks. But this time, the shark is far worse.”<br/>
“What?”<br/>
“Mycroft.” Mycroft chokes at this.<br/>
“Wait, Sherlock. Now you?”</p><p>    Sherlock lowers his gaze for a moment, “We can’t exactly trust you, Mycroft.” Watson watches this, relaxing cautiously in the chair.</p><p>    “Oh, I see! Because I tried to integrate Enola into the civilized world makes me the villain? That I would help her become a true lady?”<br/>
“Exactly. You forced me into a form that would never fit me.” Enola remarked sternly.<br/>
“Well, I think that’s about it for today.” Mycroft abruptly finishes, standing up and pressing down his suit. “I will retire early tonight.” He walks out without another word. </p><p>    Enola sighs in relief. “Thank god.” Sherlock, Enola, and Watson end the day with a long chat. All holding their breath to what awaits on the morrow. </p><p>~~~</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Eudoria and Irene</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The strange dream and mystery... </p><p>The Black Rose finds them...</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>2nd Chapter. </p><p>Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter Two: Eudoria and Irene</p><p>    An enigma. I remember the days when all seemed... Right in the world. Then she left without a trace. And yet, she found her way back to me. She never truly told me the extent of her - mission. But where she is now, I don’t know. I wonder every night - and hope every day.<br/>
But something came then. I see it. Vividly. But, shadowed among the thorns. </p><p>A Black Rose.</p><p>    ~~~<br/>
Enola woke with a start, breathing heavily. Sweat stuck to her forehead, dribbling down her face. Her eyes were huge and disturbed. She exhaled and sat up in bed. She lit a candle on her nightstand. Her stomach churned, breath catching as she watched the darkness swirl around her. Enola rises, flinging her legs off the edge, touching the chilled ground with her bare feet. She shivered, delicately walking toward the door. Hesitating, Enola moves to her hanger where she puts on a long cloak. Then, slowly… She opens up the door and looks out, glancing each way. </p><p>    Enola pads down a long hallway, passed suits of ancient armor and large vibrant tapestries shadowed by the dark. She traveled down another hallway until she hit one of the farthest doors. But then, she pauses, hideously loud crashing sounds emerge from behind it. Bangs, and thunders.<br/>
“Sherlock….?” Her eyes grow huge, slowly creaking the door open. There, in the shadows, two figures fight with bare fists, back and forth like a dance of death. A male figure, simply Sherlock. Then, he fought a female figure, as Enola could see. </p><p>    The dance continued, till Sherlock flipped upward and was pinned down by the woman. Enola was about to charge in to protect her brother - but… Hesitated. It seemed wrong to intervene. A few seconds later, Sherlock flung himself up, pushed against her arm, twisting it up and her body flung down from his back. Now, vulnerable, Enola watched as Sherlock stood atop the woman. Back against the ground, the woman heaved as Sherlock kept the pressure on her arms and legs. Another moment passed in silence. Then, Sherlock opened his mouth, as he uncovered the ethereal face from the shroud she wore. </p><p>    “Irene…” He breathed, taken aback for once in his life. His eyes grew wet, body shaking. Enola had never seen her brother like this. The woman exhaled, her moss green eyes searching his face. </p><p>    “Sherlock.” She spoke, her voice like a spring breeze of the lips of a glade. Sherlock uncovered her head, where lush auburn hair poured down from her gorgeous face. High cheekbones and striking jaw, fair skin, and eyebrows all gave her the air of a dark goddess. Her lips pursed, the color of rosewood. He took a step back as Irene slowly stood. Then, in a second, Sherlock’s face went grey and hard. </p><p>    “I thought you were dead.” He whispered, eyes cold. Irene lowered her gaze.<br/>
“I did. Sherlock. Well, at least to everyone’s knowledge.” She spoke carefully, and concisely.<br/>
“Why for so long?” Only a whisper did Sherlock speak.<br/>
“I wasn’t sure if he would find me, hunt me down. I was able, by some miracle, to survive against his genius.<br/>
“He’s dead,” Sherlock said, emotionless, yet vulnerable. He wore only a white undershirt and some trousers. </p><p>    Irene opened her mouth for a moment, then closed it. Unsure of how to react. “Really? He’s gone…?” Sherlock nodded and then began to pace the gloomy room. </p><p>    “Sherlock, I’m sorry!” She exclaimed, “I- I never wanted to hurt you…” The detective turned to her, his eyes like ice.<br/>
“You hurt me more than you know.” He then growled, “Enola, you shouldn’t listen in on others' conversations.” Enola jumped, startled by her brother’s awareness.  Enola came from behind the doorway and watched the two, distraught by what she had heard. </p><p>    “Who…?”<br/>
“Irene Adler, an old… Friend… Of mine.” Sherlock explains swiftly, his eyes were emotionless and chilled.<br/>
“What do you want, Irene? To come into my Hall in the middle of the night.” Irene bit her lip, beginning to shift on her feet.<br/>
“I was wanting to see you.” She said, glancing away.<br/>
“I doubt that.” He purrs, holding up a copper watch that dangled from his hand. Irene took in a sharp breath and clenched her hands into fists. </p><p>    Sherlock cocks his head, “I thought so.” His eyes meet hers for a second before looking at the watch. Enola narrowed her eyes toward the watch and blinked a moment - noticing what was engraved upon the back. Irene flung her hand toward the watch, but Sherlock caught her wrist.<br/>
“Why do you want it? Now of all times?” He watched her, and then pushed Irene away. Tucking the watch into a pocket before seating himself on a singular plain chair. </p><p>    “Sherlock, you’ve known me long enough - I cannot say.”<br/>
“But it’s fine to lie to me and fake your own death?”<br/>
Irene choked, “Can’t you understand, Sherlock? I had to. For my own survival.”<br/>
“You didn’t trust me. Nor have you ever, I assume.” Irene waved her hands in the air.<br/>
“Sherlock, give me the watch. I’ll leave, and never mind you again. That I promise.” Irene stretched out her hand hopefully. The detective shook his head dismissively.<br/>
“Don’t play games with me, Irene.” Enola flinches at her brother’s cold, hollow tone. Irene placed a hand on her hip, raising her eyebrows.<br/>
“And I thought that we'd be on good terms,” Irene growled with disdain. Sherlock rose, his eyes then veering toward Enola. </p><p>    “What is it, Enola.”<br/>
“I heard you two fighting, why wouldn’t I come?”<br/>
“Why are you still here?”<br/>
“Sherlock-” She glanced at Irene, “Can we talk alone, brother?” Sherlock nodded before taking his coat from a half-hidden rack, and some boots beside his messy and ash stained bed. Irene stood there in the middle of the room, pale as the moon shining rays from outside the arched windows. They left without another word. Enola jogged down a deserted, gloom-ridden hallway - looking back now and then for silent reinforcement. She slid into a lonesome, cluttered music chamber where a few violins and cellos, and a magnificent piano stood like the finest artifacts of the time. A tattered old chair was forced in a corner and a wobbly stool beside it. </p><p>    “The Black-”<br/>
“Rose.” Sherlock finished in a haunted tone.<br/>
“You saw it too? The brilliance and… Pain?” Enola glanced about before looking back at her brother.<br/>
“Vividly.” He said then, crossing his legs and entwining his fingers. “Besides Irene, it awoke me with a start and I shook like a madman.”<br/>
“What’s happening to us, Sherlock…?” Enola’s face was struck with confusion.<br/>
“I can only guess.” He said.<br/>
“Who is Irene Adler?” His sister asked abruptly, Sherlocked sighed.<br/>
“She was once a renowned opera singer.” He began, “Beyond all others to most. She was a prima donna and sang at La Scala. She had found herself many decorative lovers - until she was found in the arms of Professor Moriarty.”<br/>
“They were lovers? On that case?”<br/>
“No, but Irene was trapped under his genius grip. Working with him, using her natural prowess and thieving abilities. Most of all, my vulnerability toward her.” Sherlock spoke in a quiet manner. </p><p>“He used her to get to you…” Sherlock nodded, shame was driven onto his face as he gazed far into the distance.<br/>
“She was my one weakness. My Achilles heel. He knew that blatantly.”<br/>
“Did you love her?’<br/>
“I’ve never known. I’ve always admired her beyond words. Irene was the only one that truly kept me on edge and on my toes. Extremely clever and well-adapt - nothing passed her unseen.”<br/>
Enola was utterly dumbfounded, unsure what to say in reply. She watched him for a moment.<br/>
“The watch. Why would she trespass into Ferndell just to find a watch?”<br/>
“It has hidden value and sacred meaning to her. And others.”<br/>
“What meaning and value?”<br/>
Sherlock shook her head, “Irene has kept it under lock for most of our time. But what I know is that - our dreams and Irene trying to recover this watch-” He pulled it out and hung it in the air. It twirled for a moment before setting itself straight, wavering back and forth. “Is not a coincidence.”</p><p>The watch twirled back around, and Enola gasped. Upon the back was a symbol. Not a symbol, but a rose. And yet, not just a rose, but it was black as night upon the copper plating.<br/>
“That’s not all of it,” Sherlock says, but he takes in a breath before rising. “We’re being watched - listened to.” He whispers, barely audible. Enola gazes at the door. Through the keyhole, a shadow scurries past.<br/>
“Irene, maybe?” Enola rises, taking a long, battered can from a hook next to a large cello.<br/>
“Mh,” Sherlock shifts away from the door, beckoning his sister to follow him as he moves like a shade through the room. </p><p>He puts a finger to his lip, his chest barely rising and falling to his breathing. “Watch the keyhole. Keep an eye out.” The detective murmurs, before sliding about toward the farther wall, making his way along toward the door. Eventually, he stands against it, beside the door, waiting with bated breath. Enola gradually follows him; full of unease and tension in her muscles. </p><p>A shuffle of feet echoed down the hall as the shadow-coated figure disappeared into the deserted halls.<br/>
“Sherlock… What do we do?”<br/>
“Follow me. Quickly now.” He creaks open the door and sprints through the gloom, Enola on his tail.<br/>
“Hurry.” He calls behind her, then turns a sharp corner - headed toward Enola’s room. After a minute, they heave at the door to her bed-chamber. They rush inside, panting at the exertion and reeling at the fading adrenaline. </p><p>    Hwah hwah hwah hwah<br/>
Sherlock glances about before collapsing onto a tattered chair. He beckons for Enola to come closer as he pulls out the copper watch with the Black Rose.<br/>
“There is far more to this mystery.” He speaks softly, but with deep thought upon his face.<br/>
“Huh?” Enola cocks her head as Sherlock opens up the watch - inside was far stranger than Enola was ever expecting. She took in a breath and gasped, her eyes widening. Sherlock nodded in agreement. Engraved upon the inside of the watch wrote:</p><p>Eudoria Holmes</p>
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